'Hello,' he said, as he glanced up at the window of the inn, 'there's that artist fellow who was at Exeter. Suppose he's come to "see the gorse."' He nodded up at the window, took out his pipe, and began to fill it, directing Johnson to take the luncheon-basket out of the motor. Then the artist, Mr. Willoughby, came sauntering out of the door. I dare say he had had enough of gorse and solitude, for he seemed glad to greet even a casual acquaintance like Sir Archibald. The position of being the one man in a party of women had palled upon Sir Archibald only too apparently, for he met Mr. Willoughby with--for him--quite unwonted geniality, and they strolled off together down the road. Virginia put her hand through my arm, and drew me in the direction of the church. 'We're not going on very well this morning, Cecilia,' she confided to me. 'He's so Scotch, Sir Archibald is, what they call "canny," and I've made him very cross by dragging him off on this expedition. All the tires of the motor are cut, and he hates eating out of doors. I can see that I've vexed him to madness.' I laughed, and so did she. 'Why did you make him do it?' I asked. 'I wanted to put him to some sort of test,' she replied. 'Unless a man will do what he dislikes for you, he isn't worth much.' 'I'm afraid you are going to play with this young man's affections,' I said very severely, for her tone was frivolous. 'Am I?' she murmured. 'I wonder!' There was a moment of silence between us. I felt all manner of thrills of interest and sympathy. If you can't be happy yourself, the next best thing is to see other people happy. If, as I now suspected, Virginia was not playing with Sir Archibald's affections, then I was eagerly on her side. Words are not necessary, however, and Virginia must have divined my sympathy. We had reached the lych-gate, and there, under the solemn little roof that had sheltered so many a coffin on its way to the grave, Virginia turned and gave me a kiss. 'You dear!' she said. That was all. VI VIRGINIA POMEROY GREY TOR INN